Hot breath, right on her ear. No, her neck now. Panting as he pulled at her shorts, choking as he pushed her lips apart with his own and swallowed her breath. Gasping as she ghosted over his cock, under his waistband, over his boxers.

Salt sweat on her tongue. Sweat everywhere. Hers. His. Decreasing the friction as her bare breasts slid over his chest. Increasing the friction as she tried valiantly to get those fucking boxers pulled down. She licked his neck and everything she'd ever wanted in her whole life tasted like his sweat.

Sweet words whispered. His voice was so low that she could barely make them out over the rushing in her ears, over the sound of a foil packet ripped open. She knew what he said though, what he always said. I love you I love you. I want you. I love you.

Tonight was just an everynight. He didn't wear a 20 piece suit, no candles were lit, no promises made. She was fresh faced from the shower, smelling of shampoo and moisturizer, and he was just walking into the bedroom as she stepped out of the bathroom. Tonight wasn't special, it was a little warm and a lot humid, making his curls fly. Bringing that sheen of sweat that made her want to run her tongue along that little trail of softest hairs that ran down his stomach. It was just an everynight.

He knew what he was doing, GOD he knew what he was doing. A man in his 20's wouldn't take the time to catalogue your sighs, wouldn't take the time to improvise. A young man wouldn't know that the soft sounds are as telling as the way you scream his name.

His fingertips coaxed other sounds from her too; impatient grunts, soft gasps of pain. She knew there'd be bruises tomorrow, where he gripped so hard, where he pushed against her tight. She gave as good as she got though, little crescents adorned his neck, fading bitemarks on his shoulder. What she'd always mistaken for anger was passion and she knew that now. She felt it too.

He pressed her against the wall, her shorts long gone, his boxers kicked away forgotten. He could barely hold her up, his hands slipping against the sweat-slicked cheeks of her ass. He grunted as he almost dropped her and she laughed long and loud; husky sweet in his ears and rewarded with another kiss.

"Put me down. Put me down," she whispered.

"Where?"

"Danny, I don't care."

He let her slide, gravity pulling them first to the ground, then to each other. The bed was only 4 feet away but it couldn't wait. Except once they were on the ground, he slowed down. He traced along her jaw with his fingers, walked the path of her collarbone along to her shoulder. He looked deep into her eyes as his breathing slowed and hers sped up.

His untamed curls brushed against her jaw as he followed the same lines with his lips. Too slow. With her hands she guided his face back to hers, pressed her lips to his. With her knees bent she guided his body back to rest against her.

Still he took his time, breaking free of her lips to drag his own down her throat. Flicking each nipple with his tongue. Sucking long and hard, until it was painful. There was no feeling quite like it, and she'd have to dress carefully tomorrow as the tips of her breasts too would tell the tale of what happened tonight.

Impatient, she pulled him again, dragging his lips up to hers, tasting again the sweat between them, lost in the way he used his tongue to draw her kiss out and open her up. She slid her fingers down his back, resting on his ass. Tense muscles pulled his skin taut and she could feel he was just as impatient as she was with this dance. Frustrated on purpose. Frustrating her on purpose.

"Danny, please," she breathed as she broke away, trying not to get caught in his eyes again, desperate for his body. She ran her fingers through the downy curls at the base of him, cupped him where he was drawn tight. Grasping his shaft she used him to draw a pattern over her, a figure 8 that grew less precise as her wetness eased his path, less precise as he began to make short thrusts at the apex, grinding himself against her as the throbbing in her body took overwhelmed her other senses.

She knew what he was looking for as she drew closer, and no matter how hard she wanted to meet his eyes she couldn't. She knew what was coming. As her body tightened in anticipation, he picked his moment and thrust hard into her, eliciting a sob and a shudder as she came.

Now he was ready.

Coming down from that high she met his eyes, both frightening and thrilling in their intensity. She could see him concentrating hard as he pulled out slowly and returned to her with a measured stroke that forced her to think about, and feel all of him with each thrust. Instead of depth, he focused on angle, and the build began again. Her breath grew ragged as she lost her control in the face of his self discipline, as he denied himself release even as the second orgasm ripped through her.

Chest heaving, cheeks flushed she begged him again. "Danny, please."

He knew what she meant this time and his lips curled in that stupid half-smile, so pleased with himself. Pleased with her. He relented under her hands as she rolled them. He relaxed under her body as she took control. He let it go of his carefulness, his restraint.

His smile faded as she rolled her hips, pushing him deeper. She pulled his hands to her hips, looking for a little guidance. He steered her gently and she changed the tilt of her hips, her speed, her rhythm. She knew how to read the soft sounds too. She could read it in his abdominal muscles, see it on his face.

She slowed down again and leaned down to lick the sweat from his upper lip. He moaned her name and just like that her self-control evaporated. She thought she wanted to draw it out the way he had for her, but she just wanted to make him come, make his body hers. Faster she rocked against him, and she knew she had him as the color rose in his cheeks and his body tensed against her.

"Let go."

She felt every pulse as he came, closed her eyes and listened to his harsh breath, licked his sweat from her lips, whispered something sweet as he opened his eyes again and drew her in for a kiss.

"I love you."

When she told their story she'd say, "It began on top of the Empire State building..." but it would be a lie. When she told their secrets to her friends, she'd say, "It began on a plane." but that is only part of the truth. It began in a doctors' lounge. It began with a cautious friendship.

The whole truth, and nothing but the truth, was that it would begin again over and over, the same way it began again tonight. In an elevator, on a subway, in their bedroom, in his eyes. Every time he looked at her like. Every time he touched her.

His fingers would circle her wrists delicately to pull her close. He'd wind his hands into her hair, tickling the back of her neck. He'd pull hard at her, hands full of her. Every moment alone his hands would be at her body. And it would begin again.

Author's Note: Don't judge me too harshly, this was written in 3 hours and I was trying to fit it against various things Mindy said about Danny (rattle when you breathe, too sweaty, too grumpy, too angry, too closed off). Many thanks to the kind writers who cast an eye over it before I hit publish, you batches know who you are.